Noiseless Beacon
by Angevelinka
Summary: They came there chased by their inner demons. Now that the demons got outside, the survival game had got taken to a completely new level. And then they bled.  A Naruto/Silent Hill crossover. Contains GaaNaru NaruGaa
1. 3 !

_AN: This is one of the first RP sessions I had with Panur. Needless to say I was under the strong impression of 'Silent Hill' movie by then and tha__t influenced the plot of this thing a lot. Enjoy._

Something was going after him. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it was something and not someone. His brain would tell him he was imagining things, but that little parts all humans possessed, that which was still dark and feral since before civilization told him that whatever was following, he didn't want to be found by It.

His breath came out in harsh, corrosive little pants that made the back of his throat feel scratchy and inflamed, but he couldn't do anything about it, except nearly gag when he felt like coughing and he didn't have enough air to choke on- he couldn't risk to stop.

Naruto didn't know where he was running, but as long as it was away from that overwhelming feeling of being hunted down, he wouldn't mind if he ended in the moon. He'd woken up somewhere - without having idea how he had gotten there (or why he was there in the first place) - with a throbbing headache that seemed to be throbbing a little too enthusiastically to be just a migraine. A cursory inspection of his person also had come up with the helpful bit that there was a gaping hole in his head, apparently the source of the cold-sticky feeling on the back of his shirt and why it clung to his back like that.

He'd been hip deep in some grassy field then, and at the beginning, everything had been too blurry and confusing to make out, not to mention that he'd taken two steps forward and fallen right back down when the world apparently decided to take a few spins on the merry go round without letting him know about it.

He'd fallen on his cheeks, scratched himself on itchy tall grass and the world had gone blue _(like his eyes!) _for a while. He'd let it like that, his mind drifting to blue happiness for a little until his spectrum of color righted itself again (grass was green and sky was orange, and that seemed accurate enough to try and risk getting up again).

As stated before, he was hip deep in some grassy field and a cursory look beyond showed a very desolate road what looked to be about six hundred feet from where he was. It was utterly deserted. Where the hell was he, anyway? He had looked around carefully, trying to find his backpack, his wallet, anything that gave him a clue as to what exactly had he been doing here, because he never went anywhere without everything that mattered safely on his backpack, but it wasn't there.

A small bubble of apprehension had started forming at his chest (he remembered he'd thought himself very scared then, but nothing, nothing compared to the feeling of something chasing him to eat him whole) and without knowing what else to do, he had slowly made his way to the road and decided to follow it. It was only a few minutes later than he had first noticed the unpleasant smell of old fire. It was about half an hour later that he'd first seen the town. Then the mist had risen and swallowed him.


	2. 1 D

Drip. Drip. D r i p.

He heard dripping.

Drip. Drip. D r i p.

Oh, it ran down his head, along with his brain, with his eyes and teeth... drip, drip, d r i p... He was so stupid he thought that taking a ride with an unknown man was a good idea! He didn't want to get here, but he showed him... yeah, he showed drip him, the goddamn driver who wasn't there...

Why the hell he drip wasn't there?... He remembered him being d r i p knocked out... bleeding... Drip, drip...Ohhh... so chilly... chatter, clatter, pitter-patter, what was with this mist around here? It was a freaking Summer! Like if he wasn't in bad mood alreadddrrrippppyy... Drip...

Drip... D r i p... It didn't stop. The friggin' dripping didn't stop. He hated it.

'Shut up!... ' he said, but in vain. So he rolled down from the seat he was holding onto and crawled to his backpack, laying out there, lonely, drip, fuck, oh gods... wallleett, he had it... cell phone, he had it! Oh, shut up!

'Mary had a little lamb... ' he started singing, trying to shut the sound out while he searched through his backpack blindly 'His fur white as snow... 'Snow? Was it snow? Or maybe it was pearl? Pearls were white too... He didn't like pearls. they looked just like his white pills. And his pills were laughing at him, Because there as only a few left. 'We're at the eeend, Gaara, at the freaking end!' they screeched. He grimaced and took one to his mouth, slowly chewing on it as it screamed for help. Drip.

'Shut up' he said more calmly. It was starting to work already 'We're not at the end. We're in...' He looked around, still trembling from cold. A lonely writing on a lonely plate. '...Silent Hill.' Right. Just where he wanted to be. His hometown. Drip. Drip. D r i p. But the sound didn't stop. It even was so loud it evened the alarm that suddenly went off somewhere for no logical reason. Drip.

He searched for the source. Left - mist. Right - mist. And there...

What. The. Fuck. A bloody body of someone who looked just like his driver was hanged standing proudly on the wall of a normal house. Dripping bright red on a cracked street. 'What the hell is that?' he howled, not really feeling too good yet 'Stop with the freaking dripping!' The head moved. Everything fucking moved. It was always like that when he had a headache. Gods.

The answer his scream got probably wasn't what Gaara had been expecting, much less something anyone (even Gaara) might have wanted. A high pitched, deranged shriek of laughter, the mist distorting it's source until it was impossible to know where it came from.

It was nothing. It was just a side effect. A freaking side effect of him banging his head on the car's front glass. It always had to be like that when he was on pills. So he groaned involuntary and glared at whatever was before him.

'I'm not afraid of you.' he said, feeling that he was being watched, like if voices in his head weren't enough 'I have a knife.'

More laughter. The voice was male, but the pitch was something that could make ears bleed if heard for too long. 'A knife!' the voice mocked, heavy sounds of movement coming from some point beyond the Mist. 'And what do you plan on doing with it, little teapot?'

'I-' he said and then stopped, unsure. Something wasn't right. He didn't hear the dripping. And the mist had a normal, white color. He regained his senses already. He held tightly in a backpack and glanced around. 'Is this a trick?' he asked, feeling how his hair stood on his neck 'Is that how you greet every new foreigner?' he asked. ' Because I'd rather go and drink something hot now instead of playing with little kids in the chilly mist, thank you!'

But he held on his knife a little tighter and looked around. Maybe those weren't kids. Maybe it was some stupid teenager who liked to bully people. Those weren't exactly the nicest people on the earth. But it was nice to know that this town was habited, despite the rumors of it being deserted like the driest place on earth. And he didn't need troubles now.

'Cleaver teapot,' the voice mocked. 'Let me show you an... example.'

'I'm not a teapot! I don't do pot! I'm not taking drugs!' he said outloud, looking frantically left and right 'Stop hiding! Show yourse-' He moved and he almost fell face down on the street. What the- '...the hell?'

His foot was stuck in the sand. Ankle deep. On asphalt road. He tried tugging it out, but it didn't budge. He slashed it with knife and it MOVED. Like a living being.

'What the hell is going on?' he screamed angrily, trying to step backward and failing at it 'That's not freaking funny! Who is doing this!'

More shrieky laughter.

'Here's an example of what I can do!' the voice howled, and the sand around Gaara's foot suddenly tightened and hoisted him up, but not high enough. The back of the redhead's head met the asphalt with a sickening thud. 'I can tip you over and pour you out!'

He banged his head on a hard ground and yelled - more from being startled than from pain. Then he looked at his leg being pushed up by a simple dirt and gawked. For a moment, that's it. He felt his knuckles going white over the knife's handle. 'Who think up dumb tricks like that?' he hissed, trying get his leg out of the tight grip. 'Whoever you are, you're pretty stupid!'

The sound of something massive moving was back, and soon the form was close enough to make two eyes, diamond-shaped pupils surrounded by gold, gold surrounded by black, each the size of soccer balls. Bulging blue veins stood out harshly from sand-colored hide as the creature moved closer. 'When you get all steamed up I`ll hear you shout…' the thing cooed rising a clawed hand. Sand came out in high pressure, carving out pieces of Gaara's skin, almost all the way to his skull 'Here's your handle, here your spout~'

_Eeenie, meeenie, mini, moo. Where the kid is going to? Wounded flesh makes skin looks fun When you know how to run... Eeenie, meenie, mini moo. Scared shitless, aren't you? I can see you run away But I only want to play! Eenie meenie mini moo. One for me and one for you I will hide the second too Eenie meenie mini moo!..._

Mist was alive. It breathed, pulsed and hummed the song of a dimension. His dimension. He was closer to home than he was before, since... Closer than ever (since). He inhaled it greedily, knowing he was the one who set rules here, knowing he was the king of the silence he produced. His bloody, hungry silence, that drank up every piece of blood he didn't lick. Every piece of meat he didn't eat. Every bone he didn't swallow...

_Food. There was new piece of food, of a toy, of a humanish world from the other side running around there. Only this time it wasn't an ordinary piece of meat. It was IT. It was __blond. It was just perfect. Eeenie meeenieee miniii mooo!..._ He lunged for it, lashed, fell onto it. It screamed, it ran away it cried it feared him. But it thought it got away. He laughed. Laughed like always, like usually he did, like he wanted and like he never did in his life before. He was glad. Glad he met the little shit. It was IT.

He lashed and got a hold on a plump cheek. A second, a half of it and blue eyes looked at him, startled, terrified and then it was a sharp pain and blood run down freely... Three markings on left cheek. The blood was sour, aghast, full of fear and rejection. He couldn't swallow it.

_'Why are you running away?'_ he cooed, running after it, his tails trailing behind him 'Don't run away, I want to be you friend!...' And he laughed. He had white fangs and he showed them off. He had red eyes and he showed them off. Shrill cry penetrated the mist as it ran, ran, ran!... _'Why are you running away?'_ blue eyes looked at him. His cheek was so meaty _'I want to be you friend!...'_ This time the blood's taste was much sweeter. It was working.

He screamed. He screamed bloody murder and brute savageness, screamed for help and for mercy, screamed with his mouth, his voice, his eyes, his body and his soul. His eyes went white, while he screamed, he saw the back of his skull. His fingers clawed at the asphalt while he screamed. The pain. The fucking pain! It got through his skull and brain and burned, it burned through his howling, crying soul, cutting through it and screwing up with everything that was inside. He didn't know what it was. But it was screwed.

He howled, while trying to break the sand with his knife. He yelled trying to scrape the sand with his fingers. He screamed when it didn't stop. And only this eyes, those savage eyes... It was laughing, but his eyes were not. It didn't understand. Its brain was not there.

It was a stupid, big ugly beast which didn't understand what it was doing. It did because it was curious. It did, because he wanted to do it. it did, because it thought it will be good. Empty eyes. He screamed at them, saw himself screaming in them and didn't dare to wish for death. Because if hell existed, he probably just went through it. Because it couldn't be a dream. It was not. His voice gave out.

_FOUND!_ a panicky voice screamed somewhere in his brain. Stupid, weak, it tasted like prey. Loud, so loud and didn't let him think of anything else but the fact that- You can't run, you can't hide anymore, it _FOUND YOU!_

He thought he'd gotten away? He wasn't very good at his classes, but he was good at sports! Running at least, and he'd run so much the muscles on his knees and elbows felt hot and watery, and the thing had found him— It had knocked him over, slammed its hands (paws? Claws? What the hell *was* it?) onto him from the side, the impact feeling like a bag of bricks covered by warm, furry flesh. It knocked the air out of him, made the wound on his head throb angrily and the world shift in and out of blue again, and when he came back he saw red and white. Oh, God, it`s happy to see me…?

He stared at it, another `please eat me` squeak coming from his mouth as wet warmth spilled thickly down the side of his face. He absently brushed it away and let out a little cry as he felt his skin fucking *gape open*. The warmth instantly shifted to acidic pain, as the thing laughed at him and he scrambled up, crawled away, ran. Why me? Why always me? And the thing was speaking at him! It said—It was saying—

Mad. This time you really, really are- _FOUND YOU! YOU LET IT FIND YOU!_ Something soft on his cheek, the one that didn't feel like if the flesh could flap open and closed if he worked his mouth. Felt nice. Could be nice, if he let it. It cut you with that hand. With those nails. Yes, but if he let it, if he-

It _HURT YOU_ and it`ll _HURT YOU_ again if you _LET IT!_ He ripped himself away and it hurt, his cheek got caught on the claws and ripped open, more marks on his cheek, more blood, and God, he had liked this shirt and it was covered in blood now. His blood.

He turned around and ran away, blood falling like tears down his face.

#+#+#+#

He thought he'd lost it in the Mist. Sound carried poorly in the mist as for scent— Ah, he reeked of blood. He would be found. Maybe he should just stop. Maybe he should just let it find him and… and let all of this be over with. If he just waited a bit and let it- _What are you thinking?_ cried the stubbornly rational part of his mind in defiance. _What do you think it will do with you if it gets you?_

'I don't know…' he cried softly, a finger reaching to shakily trace the deep cuts on both his cheeks, sickened by the metallic smell and the way red had extended all the way to his pants. The wounds weren't deep enough that they'd gone all the way through the skin, but the time he'd dare to run his tongue from the inside, and felt the way the skin it pushed gaped open obscenely made him gap and think of vomiting, only if he vomited, he was afraid his skin *would* tear till the end. Why was he here? What had he been doing here...? Where was here, and why was all of this happening to him anyway?

He staggered back to his feet when he heard something. Thought he did, at least –it was so hard to hear anything in the damp bubble the mist created-and when had he sat down…? He rubbed at his hands absently, having rubbed them the wrong way against things in the asphalt, making a face at the grainy feeling. Sand…?

Why was there sand in here? He looked down, seeing that effectively, there was a trail of sand… it would be difficult to say where it lead, but maybe there was a beach somewhere… if there was a beach— Well, what? What if there was a beach? That didn't mean he'd be safe there, it didn't mean he wouldn't be found. But he honestly didn't know where else to go or what else to do, so he set for following it.

The blood was sweet, but the meat was sweeter. And nothing tasted better than sweet meat dripping with blood. It ran, it tumbled, it cried and ran some more and he felt it fear, felt it skin against his paws, felt his _BREATH_, almost there, almost here, against his mouth, like if he was kissing it, like if he was kissing _IT_, like _HE_ was _KISSING IT_, like if _HE WAS_ eating _IT_ and...

...it was gone.

He shuffled, beating the ground, feeling disturbed. He was there, he wasn't there, there was no him, was there he not? His skin tingled, cracked, prickled and smoothed, swooning over the known scent as his fingers slowly fingered the ground. He moved like a fluid, like an oil over a water and now he met a grain of sand. It tripled it crunched and it smelt of a living creature. It was close. _THE_ he was close.

He wasn't where he was anymore. He was where _THE_ he was. Same place, different terrority... He perked around, shifting, swishing and crunching through the living sand and smelt the asphalt. It was hot as if the road was used, and yet, the freezing air was there - his vision wavered in the mist... Wave. Smell. Sweet smell of morbid murder. He found him again. It wasn't his land, THE he was an enemy and it was not where he wanted to be, but he followed, because IT was there. He found the blond hair, plump cheeks and snickered in silence, knowing he didn't see him, didn't feel him, didn't...

He lashed at him, pushed him onto the ground and laughed as it screamed in fear, laughed as IT SCREAMED in fear and he let it go, following IT, smiling, smiling, smiling... _Eeenie, meenie, mini-moo. How about me eating you? I will._ He smiled wider.

Naruto ran again, even if he'd been sure he wouldn't be able to do it anymore, he somehow found a way to make his legs carry him at a speed he wouldn't have believed was possible for him to achieve. That thing wanted to eat him alive. (Or maybe worse…)

In his desperate fleeing, he didn't see how much more sand he was stepping on. Didn't really notice until she slammed onto something big that up until seconds before had been laughing.

#+#+#+#

The sand colored creature let out a shrill cry of delight at that the teapot was doing. Which wasn't much, as he seemed to have gone into a half faint, but he was bleeding so deliciously over his sand…

With a deep rumble the thing leaned and slowly licked the bloodied wound with its rough, sandpaper like tongue, gold eyes narrowing at how perfect, how wonderful his mark looked— Something. Something touching him… Who'd dare? He heard harsh breathing—a human. Another human? On his territory?

#+#+#+#

Bigger than the other…. The one that had cut his cheeks looked like an emaciated rabbit dog from hell. This one was thick and looked like some weird animal that he might have recognized if it weren't for the fact the coloration and markings were totally off. Either way, the thing recognized him.

'You!' the thing screeched, turning its massive form towards him, and the body it had been playing with dropped to the ground with a flat, fleshy noise that made him want to throw up.

The marks. The medium marks. So the 9 tails had already picked up a human? He'd just found his own! Was it more recent than his own? Was the other trying to cheat on him? The Fire fox dared to send his human to his lands? With a shriek, the sand-colored creature shifted slowly. The sand shaped it's quarters backs, ending in a sharp tail made of jagged angles that immediately tried to crush the blond human.

He didn't made it. Or had he? He couldn't. It was intolerable. It was impossible to let it happen. _THE _he attacked _IT_. And _IT_ didn't run... He knew he'd meet the fat ugly _THE _him, but he also had an idea of getting IT back from the trait it taken. He lunged forward and stopped the pointy tail with his teeth. He bit, he bit, he bit so deeply he felt it tear and he run forward, carrying THE him with him, tossing him. Then he showed off his fangs, showed off his eyes and showed off his claws, not liking, not approving, not being happy.

The place was the worst, the place was not his and the place breathed with anger and vengeance, threatening him and baring its fangs at him... No play, no game, no fun. Just war. MY HUMAN! He lunged at him and TORE and he BIT and YELLED (yell!) while he was bitten (yell) and scratched and beaten (YELL). MY HUMAN!

His tails lashed around, hit the ground, make it worse, crushed the asphalt, murdered the surface, waved through the mist... his breath was cold, his eyes shone and he was ready to defend MY HUMAN! because it meant a war and everything was right at war and there were no rules at war and love. Though he did not know love. Grotesque word. Was it to make it laughable, to sneer at him, to show him his lack of knowledge, a mockery? The other human (NOT HIS) was laying there, laying (meat) with his (forehead) bleeding from a mark, a sign a sign a sign LOVE He did not like being mocked. He kicked a human and smiled wider wider wider as it groaned as it yelled while rolling, being tossed, hurt, broken... _LOVE_ is a mockery.


	3. 2 I

The light was dim. The world was loud. A nightmare... He breathed, feeling his face being wet, feeling his blood trickling down it, feeling that his mad episodes were not ending, that it felt too real and he couldn't move, couldn't run, couldn't... He was laying there, breathing faintly, not seeing, not wondering. Cold mist engulfed him, made him feel chilly and dizzy, while his backpack was (where?) and his meds were (what?) while he felt a knife...

His knife was laying just a moment from him. He moved his fingers faintly, slowly, felt the cold metal. Ouch. It stung. He hurt himself. The blood was real. It was all too freaking real. He slowly felt more, grabbed the knife by its sharp part... And then something hit him, made him yell out of pain, fly, tumble, hit the ground, no! No! (hit) No! (pain) No!...

(reality)

'Oh gods!' he cried 'Oh gods! I'm alive!'

He was.

He scrambled on his knees, grabbed his pencil which tore off from his things, tried to get up and he couldn't, because it was all bloody and he felt pain and he didn't know and... He fell on his face.

Shrill howling around him. Creatures were fighting. He felt his meds jingling in his pocket. He couldn't move. He gripped his knife tightly, feeling it cut his skin deep and saw it blooding his fingers and dripping on the street and he couldn't move. The pain didn't help this time. Drip.

The sand monster gaped at the absurdity of something stopping him from squishing the Fire foxes puny little human. Then he was gaping at the fox itself. The fox. The fox had stopped, the fox tore at him –no pain, no hurt, he was in his lands- but… so was the fox. THE FOX WAS IN HIS LANDS, WITH THE HUMAN? The raccoon howled his rage, and attacked the trespasser, sand crawling up its legs and threatening to crush it.

#+#+#+#+#+#

Naruto didn't know what the hell was happening anymore, only that by some miracle the two monsters were fighting each other now and had let him go… and that if he didn't move from here, they might crush him. He was going to run somewhere when what he had originally thought was a dead body moaned something and moved, and he realized that all that red on his head wasn't blood, but his hair.

He barely dodged a metal trashcan that went sailing past him and crashed against an abandoned car, and without pausing to think about it, Naruto dashed for the red-haired person and quickly dragged him from the immediate zone of disaster, pausing only long enough to throw an arm over his shoulder and start running as well as dragging a semi-conscious person made it possible.

He dodged, feeling the movement behind him. His human was running away along with the second one. He couldn't follow. _THE_ him wouldn't allow this. Didn't matter. They had time. A lot of time... _'Shukaku' _he snarled in an offended tone _'I'm Kyuubi!'_ The second sentence was said in a proud tone. he didn't need many words to get through here. Not many understood the talk. Wasn't really needed. Now.

(since then till now)

Maybe later. Maybe.

#+#+#+#+#+#

He felt he was being lifted and he felt that somebody started dragging him along the street, making him move, making his cold and void of feeling feet move... it was more painful than knife he held so tightly he didn't know if he hadn't damaged his hand permanently. He tried looking at the stranger and wondered if it wasn't another strange creature, but all he saw was some blond guy with mad gashes on his cheeks. The shrilly howls and yells slowly were getting further and further away, so he felt that the danger hadn't followed them.

'Where are we going?...' he asked, his voice crisp and crackled. The mist didn't allow him to see anything. The blood in his eyes was not helping. 'My bag... I have to get back...'

He had everything there. Everything. Food, documents, money, clothes... He couldn't just leave it like that. 'My bag... my bag' he muttered, knowing that he had to get back and yet he hasn't got strength to let go of the strange person 'My bag...'

Naruto really was going quite fast for someone carrying another person of similar height and weight, especially when said person wasn't doing anything at all to help. The wonders of adrenaline, he supposed. That same adrenaline was making him aware of the fact the person that had apparently had his face town in half was talking, even if the meaning of his words escaped him completely.

His lungs were too busy doing odd things to his ears to allow him to make much sense. He had lost what seemed to be a bucketful of blood from his cheeks alone, if the mostly red-dyed shirt was anything to go by, but he felt perfectly fine, or as fine as someone that had been mauled by a wolf-rabbit creature from hell could feel. In fact, his mind had acquired a shirt cups of clarity like only monks that have reached true enlightment could have, and that clarity told him to get the fuck out of there.

Too bad the clarity didn't seem to be in the mood to work with his vision, because all he saw were off, ominous shapes that thankfully weren't moving and he supposed might be cars and buildings, but for all he could distinguish could be the carcasses of Lovecraftian horrors. The milky whiteness extended everywhere.

'What the hell is this place…?' he whispered, trying to find something, anything that would help him find something to be able to help him determine his exact location. He wasn't sure he wasn't running in the direction the monsters had been in anymore, there was just white and shapes and more rolling, lolling cold whiteness that made his skin damp and cool.

Slowing down, he risked starting to walk to one of the sides of the street and see if he could find somewhere that would hopefully hint at more human life than the disfigured person he was dragging around. This place couldn't be completely inhabited, right? Why would he be here in that place…? For some reason that question made him want to pull his arms behind his back, as if his hands were dirty.

He continued at the slow pace, blue eyes staring intently at closed door behind closed door, until he finally caught sight of something flickery-shiny on the distance. Green and red shiny flickery, but the red flickered more. It was shaped like a plus sign. He took a look around, but that seemed to be the only sign of life in the otherwise deathly still path he was walking in, so he decided it was as good anything else. He could use a first aid kit, and as far as he could tell so could too-heavy-and-bleeding-red.

'My bag... the brown one... looked like a big gourd...' Gaara mumbled something through his teeth, not really being sure why he was searching for this thing. He knew he has only been walking and walking and walking for miles and he saw nothing but a hard surface of crackled street and milkshake of an air. And it was cold. He clattered his teeth, feeling the oozing chill and slowly got up his hand to look at it. He was still clutching a sharp part of a knife with a paralytic grip and he wasn't sure if it hadn't grown on him.

He limped his head and groaned as it plopped with more red on the street. He only wanted to lie down... down... down... down...

'My bag is down the street...' He made a sudden sharp move and turned them back on their trace, making three strong steps, then his strength has vanished and he nearly collapsed on his face once again.

Naruto tried to catch him. Really, he did… try, that is. At least intended to, but he had been so scared by the fact bloody-red suddenly had enough force to turn them both around he just let go completely of him and it took him too long to react when he staggered and fell. And gha, that fleshy sound again. Wet skin sounded different on asphalt than normal skin, he now knew that.

'Hey… hey, are you ok?' he asked his voice doubtful as he slowly approached the other person and shook him. When that proved unsuccessful, he tried picking up, upon when he noticed the person with what looked to be a pocket knife embedded on his hand. He tried to remove it, but even when he had Red`s hand open, the knife was still glued to his skin in places. Places where the knife was held between cuts in the skin. Oddly enough, it was prying the blade off his fingers what made him feel sick in ways the other's face and his own wounds hadn't, and he dropped the knife as he turned around and tried to throw up. He succeeded, but he regretted it when his mouth was only filled with a bit of saliva that tasted like a close relative to battery acid.

'…what the hell is this place.' he asked, sniffing back the tears that had been brought by the taste in his mouth. He felt like if he'd made the horrible mistake of swallowing lava. Without even thinking about it, he picked the knife again and put it in his back pocket, reaching down to pick Bloody-Red once again, slowly dragging him towards the flashing light. Now he needed that pharmacy.

Gaara let himself be carried. He walked as long as he could, didn't recognize anything or anyone and saw that he was being taken to some kind of a building. He swallowed once, twice, and then understood. The pharmacy. Pharmacy, haha. Pharmacy, hehe!

'Haha... ha...' He started laughing, quietly a bit, then louder. If he had more strength, he'd probably tear off the stranger and started laughing on his own, but he couldn't do that. Instead, when they walked to the door, he clutched to it, howled in pain as his wounded hand made contact with the dusty metal and started laughing like a dying prisoner. Then he let go of the frame and lost touch with the world.

Maybe it was better for him that way. Maybe if he knew what was going to happen, he'd never try to wake up again. But he didn't, and, as usual, as he was told to in nonstopping, never ending sessions, as he wanted to do, he fought to open his eyes, even if it was easier to never wake up. He fought for his breath, even if it was easier to just let the lungs collapse. He fought for it - and woke up startled. His face was wet. His forehead hurt. He was in a room he didn't recognize. He didn't go in there. He didn't know such place. What... what... where... ah? And his knife was missing! He ignored the vile pain in his hand and turned in sharp move on his left side. He heard someone. He lied for a moment, completely silent, then he got up and ready to fight for his life. He got up - and he felt the room swirl and wobble, so he immediately fell down on his back, making so much noise probably Santa Claus had heard him. Ow!... My head!...

'God, are you okay?' Naruto peered down at bloody-red, who now wasn't as bloody as before, but still was mostly red. It was the hair. He'd never, ever seen someone with skin that white and hair that red. Weren't redheads supposed to be more orange-haired? No wonder he'd thought this guy's head was cracked open, his hair was almost the same color as blood. It was creepy. It didn't seem to be dyed, either. He'd checked when feeling for other wounds, but there didn't seem to be any different colored roots. He had found a plethora of wonderful bumps that would throb beautifully, though. He didn't envy red's awakening.

There had been a lot of time to kill while he waited for Red to wake up. He'd first of all closed the open doors, not liking a bit the way the place looked, but nothing had been inside the pharmacy, and he supposed that was good enough. He'd barricaded them by pushing a magazine stall in front of it… Hardly the most secure of barricades, but it did cover them from the outside peering (RED) eyes of whatever might lurk outside. Not much seemed to do. In the wispy smog, nothing had moved. A couple times he had thought he'd heard something, but it probably had been his fried nerves.

Either way, inside there was light, and he had needed to use it to fix his face as well as he could. His cheeks throbbed in a burning way and he'd used tiny band aids to keep the wounds closed, then covered them with gauze. Iruka-sensei always told him to leave wounds in the open so they'd heal faster, but he wasn't sure he meant wounds where pretty much perfect to pass as gills- he was pretty sure they were supposed to get stitched.

Then he'd used a water bottle he got from a handy minifridge that had contained less than savory items, not that he thought the water could have gone bad. He'd tried to use it to wake Red up, but apparently Red didn't want to wake up, so he'd taken off his shirt and used the bits that were still white to clean Red`s face. He'd been surprised at how pale red really was, but mostly at the fact his face was kind of…perfect.

Sure, his eyebrows were so pale he had to touch them to make sure they were there and after much wiping he had come to the realization make up wasn't that water proof so the rings around his eyes had to be bags - but his face was really kind of model-like. His skin was really soft and pale and pink in places and for some reason all this scrutinizing made him feel uncomfortable and aware that his shirt was ruined and he wasn't going to put it back on. So he'd busied himself cleaning the deep wounds in his forehead and then covered it with more gauze. He didn't want to know how that word had gotten there or why, but that wasn't a knife wound. He'd spent the past twenty minutes trying to figure a way to wrap those in Red`s hand.

'Let me help you-'

He didn't answer, cracking one of his eyes open and looked at the figure near him. It was blond, it was petite, it had wounds on a face that even a guy from an army would be terrified to see. That got him looking at him a little more warily. No shirt. And damn, were those bruises on arms real? He looked like if he was beating himself daily to mark days in the calendar. Pain. Gaara gritted his teeth, feeling that if anything, the bruise on his forehead he got from earlier was stinging like mad... (earlier)

He looked at the ceiling in wonder. The things that happened (earlier) were uberly fantastic and made like in an old horror movie. Gaara was not sure what to think about it. Wound on his head felt real, but the rest... Were his pills wearing off so quickly?

Did he need stronger ones already? What has really happened there? He turned his head toward the petite blond and looked at his chest. His nipples were rosy. That lucky bastard had that kind of skin that made everything look perfect if tanned. He licked his lips experimentally and tasted water. But (earlier)

...

'Where am I?' he tried. His voice was working. Good. He could communicate. Unless this half naked creature was also mute from those mad gashes.

'I-I don't know.' The blond's hand switched, unsure on if he should help Red up or let him lay where he was. Red had been looking at him with creepy eyes. They were creepy-green color, kind of like washed out grass. Kind of like that bitter tea Iruka-sensei drank. His arm warmers weren't much cleaner than his shirt, but they weren't that bad, and Red had been looking at them, and he didn't like people looking at his arms. He didn't know how the bruises had gotten there- those were very, very recent, kind of like, just—today recent, but there were older things he didn't want others looking at. If he looked ridiculous with orange and black arm warmers and no shirt, the truth was that he didn't give a fuck.

'This is a pharmacy, but I don't know where.'

Gaara still looked at him, as if he was testing him. He stretched a bit his injured hand, then looked at it. He frowned the slightest frown and smothered it away. He looked at the blond again with much colder glare. 'My knife.' he said in a demanding tone. He could be in epitome of weirdness now and he wouldn't care as long as he had his knife. If he didn't, the epitome could wait. Pharmacy, pff. He knew it was a pharmacy. He had eyes and he saw the way it was built. He slowly moved his eyes down the blond, licking him with his stare and covering on some details, like nice abs or tasteless jeans. Then he got up to the face and held out his wounded hand. When he stretched it, the cuts opened and showed a grotesque work of skin and muscles together.

He didn't like repeating himself so he did not speak this time.

Naruto stared in fascination as he extended the hand that he'd let be so the skin would hopefully seal itself and the way the muscles gaped open again had him backing away as if the redhead had tried to hit him.

'Don't show me that!' he said, covering his eyes 'Please.' Was added as an afterthought, voice softer and more controlled.

The redhead looked at him. Then he slowly put his hand down and got up. The pain in his head throbbed so much he wanted to hurl and gag, but he could do that later. He made a few steady steps toward the blond and caught his palms with his good hand - he tore them and showed his injured palm to Naruto's face so close he could see nothing but it and held him firmly in the place. 'My. Knife.' he spoke in a harsh tone. He really, really did not like repeating himself.

The blond pushed him away more violently than what was needed. 'Why did you do that for?'

Gaara groaned, holding onto his head once again and looked at the blond with disrespect.

'It's my hand you're disgusted with. That's sick.' Then he simply came closer put his hands into his pockets violently. With a quick and short searching he got out the object of the pocket from the back of blonde's pants. Before Naruto could do anything, he grabbed him by his face and showed his knife into his vision, almost poking him with it in an eye. 'This' - he gestured, flashing his weapon in a dim light 'Is a knife, miss Blondie. I'll take it or you'll hurt yourself even more.'

Then he let go of him and came back to the spot, sat down and slammed his knife into the floor so it could stand straight. Now he could concentrate.

Naruto didn't seem to be half as impressed by the knife as he had been by the gaping flesh of the redhead's hands.

'Keep it- I didn't want it anyway-' He didn't like knives. He liked even less gaping wounds that looked like gills on a dying fish.

'This place's name is Silent Hill.' the redhead said as he remembered the plate he looked at before everything went insane 'And...' Throb. Throb. '...my bag is still out there.' He looked at the entrance and got up, ready to go for his things.

Silent Hill…. No, that name didn't ring any bells. Didn't sound familiar at all. How had he gotten here? What had he been doing here…? He didn't have much time to wonders about those things, because Red got up and started walking away, startling him enough to get him to scramble up and scurry after him, his hand gripping his wrist. 'Where are you going? There are monsters out there!'

Gaara stopped and frowned. He looked at the blond again and looked back in front of himself. Then he looked at Naruto again. 'What did you say?'

Seriously, what? He couldn't remember anyone else seeing his demons.

'Monsters! Didn`t you see that thing that carved your head?' He touched his own gill marks and shivered, thinking he was going to be sick again. 'It ripped a word in your skin, it-it had you hanging upside down! You saw it… right?' He had seen the rabbit-wolf thing from hell… right?

'A word?' Gaara immediately touched his forehead and ripped off the thing that prevented him from feeling it. If felt like a disfigured bruise, but... He looked around and ran toward the closest window. The mirroring was faint, but visible. Red sparkling 'love' kanji stared at him from the mirror. 'Love'. Love? He looked at the blond and blinked. Then he gestured at his forehead again but didn't speak a word that was running around his mouth like crazy. He looked into the glass again. 'Who did that to me?'

'The monster! The fat one! The one that had you, it was—it was doing something to you, with that cut…'

'WHAT MONSTER?' Ow! Gaara screamed only if necessary. Which meant rare occurrences. And now he chose one. Bad timing, considering the throbbing head. 'There are no monsters! Are you nut as well?'

'There are monsters out there!' The blond said, eyes wide and blue as they had never been before. 'Who the hell do you think did this to me?' he pointed at his own cheeks, then at the redhead's forehead. 'Who did that to you?'

'How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not exactly healthy as well!' Then he looked at his clock. Good. The time was not skipping at strange hours. He was still sane. 'It was probably some dog or anything wild like that. If I were you, I'd get that stitched.' Because he saw too many monsters in his life to actually believed in existence of any. The blond might've looked like something he'd consider as a good one-night stand, but it didn't give him rights to mess with both of them. He got his knife from the floor then has hidden it in his pocket. He still had pills. Good. 'I don't know about you, but I'm not here to sit on my ass. I'm going to get my things and go to the nearest library.'

'Dogs don't know how to write, Red.' the blond said, showing his teeth in an almost animalistic snarl. 'Dogs don't make better kanji than I do!' He didn't need or want the redhead telling him he was insane. He was many things, but insane wasn't one of them. He absently brushed his cheek with the edge of his arm warmer, not surprised when it came out with some blood on it. He'd been moving his mouth a lot. 'Animals don't say-' ((_Don't run away, I want to be you friend!...))_ '…things.'

Redhead looked at the blond and smiled slightly.

'People who live in a vacated town can't be really normal.' Then he grabbed blond by the back of his head and kissed him soundly on the lips. 'It's Gaara, the former habiting of this town, not 'Red'. Be reasonable, miss.' Then he let go of him and started moving the magazine stall from the door.

Naruto's eyes widened at the kiss, mostly because Red pressed all over the cut he had on the back of his head, and the inflamed skin that had been so quiet and cooperative for the past hour suddenly woke up in a mood for partying.

'What's wrong with you?' he cried, more at the sudden bout pain and dizziness that seemed to radiate from that spot on his head, doubling over and cupping the cut protectively. Fuck. He didn't know if his cheeks needed stitches, but that definitely did. And he wasn't sure what happened to wounds that needed stitches and didn't get them. 'Fuck. Fuck.'

He had to wait a few more seconds until his wound stopped making itself known cheerily to register that Red (aka Gaara, former habitant of Silent Hill, wherever in the world that might be) had just kissed him. Color flooded to his face, as he reached up to wipe his lips, staring at the other with wide eyes. 'Whu—What was that for…? I´m not a girl.' One would think that being topless would clue Red (Gaara) on that simple and quite obvious fact.

The magazine stall has been pushed away. 'It's just that you look like something I would do if I had time and money. But I will live with one kiss also. If you ever want more, you can search for me.' He looked at the clock. He still was capable of holding onto his senses. Good. Then he noticed the blood on his fingers. 'Go to doctor.'

And he went out.

His head still hurt him like if he had migraine, but his things were more important than a greeting wound from some sick habitants of this town. But how he was supposed to find his things in this mist? He only saw half of a meter in front of him and his lights - including matches - were all stuffed in his bag. Not that it was impossible to spot. Gaara only hoped it hasn't been stolen. He'd have problems if he had to get back home without his passport.

The blond's eyes widened at the same time his skin went from beet red to more or less the same tone of the mist outside. He had never known anyone who could say so many insulting things in a single sentence, yet Red had managed it, and if he didn't follow him to do his very best to try and beat the shit out of him was because he was so unbelievably mad he just worked his mouth a few times before realizing he couldn't breathe.

That was a funny thing. He kind of felt as if he were working his lungs, but he didn't really *feel* the air getting inside of them, and even though he tried to order it to. All he seemed to be able to concentrate was in gaping in silent fury at what the redhead had just implied and when another wave of green hit him and changed his perspective to that of the street being seen from the side, he didn't seem to be aware it was because he had fallen on his side. His head throbbed madly, and he could hear the sounds the moving did as it slowly entered through the little opening stupid redhead had left.

'It wants to eat me.` he though dazedly as his focus started shifting in an out as his lids lowered. His naked skin was quickly covered in tiny drops of condensation to form on it. It made him think of sweat, even though it was so cold he moaned and tried to curl on himself. A half hearted thought tried to form through the murky colorful darkness that he was trying to avoid. `His skin looks like…`

#+#+#+#+#+#

'Hello? Mister? Are you all right?' A childish voice sang out in the middle of silence like bird's first tunes. Almost like tunes. The blond was laying down and probably expecting death.

Smirk.

'You shouldn't be laying on the floor like that. The siren went off and the monsters can come and destroy you when you have unguarded doors like that...'

'…huh?'

The world had stopped shifting in and out of focus, but it was still wrong. There was no mist anymore. But the air was purple and red. Blue eyes were in his field of vision. They were really beautiful eyes, such a pure blue color… but they were familiar.

'You know, monsters? Especially the big one, made of sand... he can do really ugly things to you when you get too close to him...' He smiled, then came closer. The blond was still on the floor, unmoving. If he stretched his hand just (like that) he could touch his face... 'Are you hurt, Mister? You look very bad... does your cheek hurt?'

'…yes?' he asked questioningly. Now that little blond mentioned it he felt like if his skin was trying to gap open despite the band-aids trying to keep it shut. Great. He had become fish version of the Joker. Now that he noticed… he turned a bit, his eyes staring at the soft skin of little blond. It was soft and pretty, with a light caramel-looking tan. It was slightly pudgy with pre-adolescent baby fat, and he would have pinched his cheeks if it weren't because the gill versions of the joker marks stood starkly against the otherwise perfect skin. '…yours?'

'Not at all.' The kid smiled widely and kneeled down. 'But don't worry, it should stop hurting soon. Nine tails is just a little strange when it comes to greetings.' He looked down and watched his body with an intensive stare. 'Did he do that to you too?' The small hand gestured toward the arms and some older marks that were visible through arm warmers.

'I don`t know.' Not the new, new ones. He tried to get up, but he couldn`t make himself sit into a straight position. 'Nine tails...?'

The kid's didn`t hurt? His were complaining like a bitch. And who the fuck was this little boy? 'Who are you?'

The kid smiled again and bounced his head on the side with a tune that was not played. 'I'm me.' he said cheerfully 'And who are you? I haven't seen you in Silent Hill before.'

'I`m Naruto Uzumaki.' He tried to get up again. His body didn`t seem to want to understand what he wanted to do, or care about it. 'What is this place?'

'Uzumaki Naruto... I like that name.' For a moment there was a flash of grotesque smile that didn't match the kid's face. Then it faded away. 'It's a very quiet place. That's why it's called Silent Hill. Not many people live here. Only those who couldn't leave and those who came because they've been searching for... something. I am searching for my mommy and daddy. What are you searching for , Uzumaki Naruto?'

'I-I don`t know. I hit my head. I lost my bad...' his voice was nearly a whine. Why was all of this happening to him? Why was he in this place? His bag probably had the answers, but he didn`t know what had happened to it. Or to himself, for the matter. 'I can`t remember why I came here.'

'Maybe because of these?'

Small hand pointed at arm warmers and bruises that could be visible. The kid looked at the in indifference, then he looked at them in distress. (it was difficult to describe the feeling) 'It must've been someone really mean. Maybe you came here because you search for a solution?' He bounced his head left and right to invisible tune.

No, nononono. Those were old things. Old things were better left hidden and forgotten.

'No. No. Why...?' he tried to move up. This time he managed to slightly, but immediately fell back with a soft thud. 'Do I know you?'

'I don't know. I don't know. Do you know me?' sang the little kid and got up, only to skip to the other side of Naruto 'Because if you don't, then I want to know you. Let's be friends. And this place gives solution to people like you.' He giggled. A little (because it's so hard to do that) bit.

'...I can`t get up. What did you do to me...?'

'Why do you think I did something to you?' He giggled a little more and smiled. 'I'm just a kid. I can't do anything.'

(almost)

'That`s not true!' Something in the distance howled. A monster or a siren, he couldn`t be sure. 'I need to get out of here.'

'Yes, you should.' The kid slowly got up and patted his knees from the dust. 'But beware, Nine tails and Sand Monster are not the only ones who wander in the mist. Just try to stay safe when the siren calls out. Or it will get bloody...' He giggled madly at the last statement (bloody) and skipped out to slowly vanish into the growing mist.

'Wait… Where are you going…? You said-' The sirens kept calling. It was so loud it took him a moment to realize they were howling outside of his dream too.


	4. 0 E

With a start he got up just as the mist started disappearing. It didn't vanish in the air like normal mist did, it didn't just get blown away somewhere else. It started moving up, like if something was sucking it in. It wasn't the only thing. So was the floor, the roof- everything. He woke with a little shriek, jumping up. What would have been too fast wasn't it, because he caught hold of the magazine stall and managed to keep himself up as pieces and bits of the floor and roof and everything just started coming off, as burning wallpaper would have. The bits got lost on the roof and what was below was gritty and dirty and had odd oxide stains that he didn't want to think what might it really be.

'What… what the hell-'

A look outside showed that the same changes were happening everywhere, bits of what had looked like a creepy, abandoned town peeling away to reveal what looked to have been some ancient hell hole where indescriptible horrors had happened. 'What is this place…?'

The deep cuts on his cheek started to bleed again, trailing warm stickiness down his face and chest.

In the meantime, Gaara has finally travelled to the abandoned car, which looked like if someone has 'stepped' on it (impossible). He tried not to think of what could that be and ignored strange splats everywhere, collecting his things as fast as possible. Maybe this strange dog or human was hiding somewhere out there... he would be better if he just moved from the spot. He was just in the middle of counting how many socks he had and how many had to lie around when he heard a loud moaning of the siren. It sounded like a fire alarm. He looked at the sky, but didn't see any possible threats and decided to continue on searching his things. It was hard to ignore - not that he didn't do it - but if he just got it quick he could get somewhere safe and...

He was just reaching for the last sock he was missing, when the floor suddenly started shifting. Literally shifting, like if it was shedding skin and...

'Oh snap.' he muttered, holding out his sock and looking at his favorite shirt he had missed in meantime 'Now it's all dirty.'

He felt the change in the air. The floor moved quicker, and he saw how muddy and dirty everything was slowly becoming, and it was so, so not normal that...

When he decided to look around, he felt that he actually made mistake with coming out of the building. Everything was moving. And changed colors. On this ugly, dirty, muddy, RED-

Pills. He had to take pills. His attacks were becoming stranger and stranger and so far it looked really bad that...

Drip.

His forehead. It started bleeding. Again. He removed some blood, but it still ran, like if his mark was fresh and cut just moments ago.

Damn his favorite book. He couldn't stay here. He felt an odd change in the air and felt like the place was breathing (pills) and moving (pills!) and moving even more as he ran back (PILLS!) to the house he thought, that maybe, that should be, that had to be it and... His hands trembled so much he couldn't unscrew the lid. Maybe it was better, because it was not the smartest thing to open it while running. But he was only focused on running. This place was doing strange things to him DRIP. Maybe he shouldn't have come here.

While Gaara tried to convince himself that what he saw just his imagination, the younger blond was trying to get over the fact that it wasn´t. Naruto considered himself a consistent person. He'd been more naïve and credulous what felt like a billion years ago, but was in fact only six years ago - eight, tops - but that had be, indeed, what felt like a billion years ago, and now all he believed in was being practical and sticking to the facts. The fact, apparently, was that he was in hell.

While he had gotten over the natural childish paranoia regarding monsters in the closet and under the stairs, and he knew that most of the ´ghost´ people claimed to see were hoaxes and Photoshop tricks. Naruto had always felt that some things were too much a coincidence to be fake. And those that insisted on it were just Asking For It. Hence he had decided to follow a very simple rule: if it looks real, feels real and tastes real, chances are it will be. And this scenery from Hellhole number 66.6 was a little too real for his tastes. Being a person who most definitely was not Asking For It, he decided he should just assume it was real and act accordingly.

He was in hell. If this wasn't hell it seriously looked a lot like it, so he would be on the safe side and assume it was. There were things in hell. And one of those things wanted to eat him and the other wanted to kill him, and if God-forbid, there happened to be more ((not the only ones who wander)) he sincerely doubted they'd be any more amiable.

There were also other people in this hell. Red (Gaara) was proof of that. He was too damn rude to be anything but human, and even if only an unidentified lapse of time ago (most of which he spent in the floor, nursing concussion-bred hallucinations) he wanted to kill him himself, now he really wanted to know where the other was. Just to know he wasn't alone in hell, because while the mist made impossible to tell if there were things or other people in it, this weird, purple-red sunset was giving him a headache (or making the one he already had worse) and the town looked deserted and at the same time looked alive, kind of it were in infected lung taking its tiny last breaths. He couldn't really see it shifting, but it was almost as if he could catch movement out of the corner of his eyes, and he didn't want to think about walking on an alive thing and accidentally falling into its mouth. That strange light wasn't much better than the mist. Despite the colors that made him think of an agonizing sun, it was only marginally warmer and less humid than the mist had been, and he really was starting to get too cold, the arm warmers not being much protection against it. He needed to get some new clothes.

Absently brushing his chin from the trickling blood, he decided against trying to wrap them up after a look at the gauze - it had been clean before the siren. The packages had been old and dusty, but what was inside had been protected and was still sterilized-clean, but now they weren't. A huge bug that had an uneven amount of legs crawled out one of the packages when he tried opening a new one and he didn't want to risk another. He needed to get clothes on before he got sick. Naruto didn't want to think about needing medicine in a place like this.

There would more than likely be some shop around. Another look out, and he slowly pushed the door open, peeking both sides as a little kid before crossing the street, then cautiously stepped out, for a moment he envied the redhead and his pocket knife, before just shrugging the thought off. The knife wouldn't do any good against the monsters they had seen.

Gaara ran. Ran as fast as he could. The dirt was seeping through his shoes, making sloshing noises, wetting his jeans and skin. He felt like if he had been going through an apple pie which stacked to him and didn't want to let go. He was afraid that if he fell down, he wouldn't be able to get up. He only needed something... steady... steady... There. He caught the closest wall of the nearest building and pushed on it with his whole body. It felt steady. Even if everything moved. He swore he heard a roar of wild pig somewhere, but he wasn't sure of anything now. With trembling hands he opened his bottle with pills and took three. There. He closed his eyes and waited. Only a little more. Only a little. It needed time. He still felt his skin being wet. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The wild pig roared once and once again, not shutting up. Too long. It's taking too long. He cracked one eye to check on the surroundings, but it still was dirty, muddy and red. It still breathed. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. His pills were stopping to work. He needed stronger. AGAIN. But why now? He only got here! He had to stop this! He took another two. He was dangerously closing to the end of the bottle, but if that was the cost of peace, it was worth it. He closed his eyes again and waited. In. Out. In. Out.

He breathed. The wall behind him did it with him. Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. Work! He felt a sour pang in his stomach, a sign he had taken too many pills and that his body was refusing it. He swallowed, once, twice and held on his breath. No. They had to work. Give it time. A little more time!... Drip. Drip. Drip. Squeeeaaak. Drip. Drip. Inhale. Drip. Roar. Drip. Drip. Exhale. Drip. It had to work. It had to work! He opened his eyes wide, this time both of them. Dirty, muddy, red- It didn't-

Fuck-

He fell on his knees and hurled down, vomiting the sharp taste and groaned. In the colorful bleach of his breakfast lied three half-melted pills. His body shook violently, wanting to heavy down everything, but he gritted his teeth and didn't let it happen. He had to hold them down. He had to hold them down. He didn't have many pills...

There. He opened his mouth and breathed, then spat on the floor with acid taste. Great. This food cost him five bucks. It was served like if it was his last meal. Such a waste of good meal. He slowly got up and looked at the surrounding and grimaced. . Why were sounds tormenting him. WHY. He closed his ears and decided to get back to pharmacy to wait out the attack.

Or maybe find that blond guy and freak him out with it. If he would tell him what actually is happening instead of what he saw, it would be worth it. He tried to call for him but... What was his name? Great, such a piece of ass and he forgot. He was obviously losing his mind. It didn't matter. He just had to walk and find him...

He passed some strange creature that probably was a wild dog, and now it looked like an animal with no face. More, his ears looked like if they were cut and sew, and instead of paws it had some kind of knives, one for each leg. It followed him, but he didn't pay any attention to it.

'Go away' he muttered, when it creaked a strange sound, like if nail scratched the glass 'I don't have food for you.'

Geez, what a day. It was even as annoying as Temari's weasel she had been holding in house. He went further, still having it on its trail and turned a corner. Oh, now look, just his luck. He found the blond guy. And he was even with some other stranger. The other guy looked like if he had no face as well, but what was new? This place looked like a hellhole after all.

'Hey, you two!' he called out. 'Mind if I get into the conversation?'

There. They looked at him. Nice. If only this stupid dog would get off his trail. He was probably looking like if he was deceiving the poor thing with some food he didn't have.

He wasn't in hell. He was in fucking Yume Nikki`s world, uncut version. He had wandered outside for a shirt. Things were great and fantastic if you ignored the background noise that was like if something was breathing but he couldn't even tell if it was on his mind or if he really was hearing it, because everything was so fucking quiet he might just have started imagining sounds. He'd made it about fifty meters outside the store when fucking Uboa decided to pop out of nowhere.

He'd been walking down hell land, minding his own business and trying to find a store where he could find a shirt and not be around in pants and Halloween colored arm warmers when he a weird, gurgled noise. He turned around and Jesus fuck, there it was, that thing that looked like some woman in an old, tattered skirt and sweater, only she didn't seem to be wearing clothes as much as have them glued to the skin, the only loose part of them being the part hanging between her legs and pieces of the sleeves where it didn't even look like if she had bones, excepting the protruding hands. The palm itself was normal-sized, but the fingers were so very, very long and bending in a lot more places than it should.

Also, it was fucking right behind him. He supposed he would have liked to scream, shriek, eep, something, but the only thing that escaped his throat was a tiny, wheezing inaudible sound as he plastered himself to the wall. Woman-thin cocked her head to the side, another gurgled noise escaping whatever it had for a face. To Naruto, it looked a tree stump after a fire, all smooth, smoke-like marks and odd not-skin-like cracks.

She sounded like someone being smothered by a thin pillow. Where the sound came from, he didn't have a clue. The woman had no face, no voice, just the weirdly misshaped face thing with cracks, like wood. Ok, so it wasn't Uboa, but the thing certainly had made an appearance worthy of her. It. Uboa. Uboa-it-thing. What the hell was this place?

Okay. Maybe they didn't really hear him. He gritted his teeth and took a step forward, almost falling down, because the dog has run his path and almost tripped him. He stumbled, then, in a first instinctive move, kicked the thing to get it away. He wasn't in a good mood, all right? And dog without a master could be kicked all he wanted. No, he wasn't voting for animal's rights. Yes, he was a bad person. Like everyone on this world. He came closer and wanted to pat the stranger on his shoulder to greet him... her? Even if he couldn't now see its face properly. He almost did it.

The stupid dog has suddenly jumped on heights no dog should jump (was it a cat then?) and only by chance missed him and drilled it's paw- kniv- claw- THINGS into her body. Gaara watched it fall in shock, then got closer to kick the animal once again.

'What the fuck are you doing, mad dog? It's a human! Jesus, things like you should be shot off!'

He got out his knife and slashed it across the back, ignoring strange breaths of person who was not even screaming, even if this animal-to-be had its paws deep in her chest and couldn't get them out 'And why are you standing like that? Can't you see what's happening? Help her!'

Great, another blond who lived up to his hair color and stereotypes.

Naruto gaped as Red came back to sight, right after a weird dog-like creature tackled the nightmare woman before she had a chance to touch him with those creepy long fingers of hers. The relief he felt at that moment was immeasurable, and sadly, short lived. The woman didn't seem to have a mouth, but the dog did. It wasn't where his mouth should be, either, but it was a mouth, it was right under its chin, like if someone cut its neck, and the mouth was there, brimming with uneven teeth as it bit into the back of the woman's neck and more of those strangled, muted noises came from somewhere within her.

Without thinking, he grabbed Redhead by the back of his shirt and yanked him back just as the dog monster snapped its neck mouth where redhead's mouth had been a fraction of a second before.  
'Are you fucking out of your mind? That thing isn't human!' he screamed, his feet stumbling backwards as he dragged the redhead with him, mostly because if he let go of the redhead he'd probably fall flat on his ass. The dog was making furious snarling noises, saliva and tongues lolling out of the neck mouth and trying to disentangle itself from the woman's torso. Apparently, he didn't like Red very much after getting stabbed.

'To tell the truth, yes, I'm actually pretty out of my mind, thank you very much!' answered Gaara, running with the blond and not even trying to look back. The images were getting even stranger and more gruesome. He wondered what has he been watching lately and why he couldn't remember any horror movie of such sorts when it came to all this. 'And what the hell are you talking about? What do you mean: 'it isn't human'? Was it a robot or what? I saw her bleeding!'

Was blood his imagination too? That would explain the raw coloring of surroundings.

'I don't know what it is, but not a person! What were you thinking, kicking that thing?' He didn't even notice that he was still clutching the redhead. And damn, Naruto could run fast when he wanted to.

'I wanted to help her, of course!' he grumbled, then stopped abruptly, halting the blond with him. 'There go my good intentions! One would expect at least 'thank you' or something, but we can't have that because you LET HER TO FUCKING DIE!'

That was second time he screamed today. Very rare occurrence. But no wonder, since all this imaginary thing was taking its toll on him and his patience was already strained. Not only he was having hallucinations, but the blond guy also acted upon them. 'Are you dumb or something? You just left a woman to get bitten by a dog to death! Where's your heart? Do you have one?'

Naruto didn't fall on his ass, but not really by much. He stopped himself by sort of hopping to a stop a few feet away from the redhead, just gaping at him. Had the redhead not seen how wrong that woman had been? The noises she made? Her fucking hands?

'That wasn't a woman, it was a monster! And that wasn't a dog, either!'

'MONSTERS DON'T EXIST! STOP FUCKING WITH ME!' yelled Gaara and banged his bag on the dirty floor 'Do you want me to believe that everything I'm seeing is real? I'm a fucking loon and I don't know who told you about it, but playing with me that way will bring me out to kill something! Do you want to be killed?'

He stopped, gasping for the air. His head started almost ringing like a bell from what he said. He caught it and seethed through his teeth, swallowing it. Gasp, breath, inhale, exhale. He closed his eyes. 'That was only a woman and a dog. We're in inhabited town which is painted grey and black. We are in Silent Hill. I saw a dog and a woman and we're in town and it's grey...' He chanted some more, only to take another breath and look at the blond. 'Tell me it's grey.' he said in a calm tone 'Tell me it.'

At first he went all mad and he looked like a typical madman and now he is holding onto his head, a little hunched, and looking at Naruto as calm as possible, though his nerves were on last straw so he curled his other hand into a fist to hold himself in one place or else he'd probably start being aggressive now.

Redhead's eyes were pale and green, and he didn't like them one bit. Too intense.

'It's not.' He said, glaring at the redhead as he took a step back, then another, ready to bolt if the other tried to hurt him. He didn't pause to wonder why he'd think the redhead would hurt him, but he had a knife and Naruto still didn't want to be the one Asking For It. 'It's dirty and burnt and covered in blood, and there are monster everywhere.'

Maybe Red was scared and in denial, but that never helped anyone, and the sooner the other got that through his head, the better for everyone involved.

Gaara was standing still. He looked at Naruto like a statue, like if he hadn't heard a word.

'Blood?' he said slowly, then his fist he had been holding for the whole time slowly uncurled. 'Dirty and burnt? Who told you that?' A knife has landed on a dirty mud with a metallic clang. Probably hit a stone or something like that. 'Who told you it's bloody and dirty and burnt?' This time this yell was only an echo of the previous yell. Gaara's lip trembled when he looked around like if he saw the place for the first time, then looked at Naruto again, pain written on his face.

'It's red.' he whispered, then he slowly fell on his knees an fisted his hair, rocking himself back and forth. Silence stretched.

'My eyes! My fucking eyes! Didn't you see? The siren-!' He jumped back and nearly ran off when the redhead dropped down, the movement startling his frayed nerves. He took a cautious look around, as if expecting another thing to jump out of nowhere, all Uboa like, then carefully moved closer.

'Hey. Hey. I'm sorry. ' Was the redhead crying? He shouldn't have screamed at him, but he was scared of this place and where the hell it might really be. A faint stir of the dream made him shiver. A place where people looked for things lost? What could he have lost in a place like this? Cautiously, he brushed a hand on the other's shoulder.

Gaara immediately caught it. He stopped rocking, but still looked at the dirty floor under him. That was too much. The hellhole - real? Or was this blond playing with him? But how could he see the same as he? Insanity wasn't contagious and especially not of the same kind. He bit his lip to finally move his voice chords.

'It's warm.' he said crisply. When he looked back at Naruto, his face was three tones paler than it was before 'You're not a monster, are you?'

Not that he expected the positive answer. But he had to ask to have anything to hold onto. His damaged world has just crumbled completely and he felt like if he had nowhere to stand on. 'I'm glad, that you're warm.' He moved it so he could touch it to his cheek. Yes, definitely not monster-like. His glazed stare sharpened. 'Out.' he murmured, then looked at the blond with intensity 'We have to get out of here.'

The blond startled a bit as the other caught his wrist, but after a moment of hesitation where he wondered if Red was going to hurt him, he let him touch.

'No, I'm a person.' He let Red touch him some more, uncomfortable warmth spreading on his face. Red wasn't warm. He was barely above environmental temperature, and he really looked too pale. ignoring his embarrassment and the fact he was shirtless, he put his other hand on the other's shoulder and pulled him up, absently rubbing one of his arms in a not-quite conscious effort to make the other's temperature a little higher. 'Yeah, please. I don't know how I got here in the first place.'

He still would have liked a jacket or a shirt or something, but he supposed he could live with being shirtless if it meant leaving this place.

'You don't know.' said Gaara, then smiled a little. 'Probably on some magic carpet from the Agrabah. You look cold there.' Then he held out a hand and touched the blonde's abdomen lightly. 'Yes, rather cold. Not that I mind, nice view. Care to stay at my place once we get out?'

The question was not to be answered. He opened his bag and held out one of his least favorite shirts - it was baggy and had a stupid imprinting on it, but it was warm. He tossed it at the blond and closed the bag. No, really, the answer was not needed. They'd probably part as quick as they got out of here - he was too crazy to put up with after this strangeness. He'd probably not even get this shirt back. Small waste. 'Put it on and come with me then, miss.'

'…huh?'

He blushed further, dropping his hands from the other and looking at him with wide eyes and a red face, trying to tell himself that no, Red wasn't hitting on him in the middle of hell. 'Don't call me that.' he said instead, not rally wanting to think too much and grabbing the shirt. Because he could use something to cover himself up and the shirt was at least black, so even if he bled all over it wouldn't be noticeable—he stopped in the process of figuring out what side was the front when he caught sight of the imprinted image, a shiver going up his spine. 'It… it's an Uboa shirt.'

'Maybe, I never was interested in finding out what the hell is this thing.' Gaara shrugged, then looked around, Everything looked really unpleasant, but at least there was no one to be seen. 'And if you don't want to be called like that, you can say your name, miss. I've already told you mine. And better get going, I don't really know if I understand what's going on yet.'

Because really, if he did, he's probably half dead now. It was probably some kind of a strange dream? Or the blond was part of the hallucination too? He felt too warm to be hallucination, but... There had to be rational reason for this. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

'…it's a fucking Uboa shirt,' the blond muttered to himself, then quickly put it on. It was black, with short sleeves and hung a little past his hips, but it wasn't that bad, especially because his arm warmers covered the rest of his skin all the way to his hands. 'My name is Naruto, not miss. I'm not a girl.' And he wasn't calling red anything but Red until he stopped referring to him as such. He was going to say that when he noticed that the carved skin on the redhead's forehead was trailing blood halfway down his face. He'd noticed before, of course, but he hadn't thought it to be that fresh…

'Yours started bleeding all of the sudden, too?' His own cuts had nearly stopped, but every now and then he'd say something and more blood would trail down his face in thin, sticky lines. He didn't know he had that much blood in his body.

Gaara snorted.

'You only think you're not a miss, Naruto.' He looked around, and when he saw no monsters, he got a hold on blond's hand and pulled him with himself as he started running. The quicker they got out of here, the better. 'It's a wound on a forehead. You'd be amazed how much blood this place produces.'

'No, so far in my life, the only person who seems to think I'm one is you. Majority wins, just so you know.' And here he was. In hell, wearing an Uboa shirt and trying to explain Red McWeirdo how majority defined one's gender. 'I'm more amazed at how much blood I have.' he wiped at one cheek, wincing at the amount of blood that stained it, more than the actual pain of the wound. 'How does one get here anyway?'

'You don't know? It's a town on a normal map. I've got a free ride here. By this' they were passing something that could be defined as piece of metal with wheels without wheels. Gaara winced as it represented the damage only something big could do. Yeah, maybe it was a car once... just maybe. They passed the plate with the _'Silent Hill'_ writings. 'See? We're almost out.' the redhead rasped, still looking around for monsters. There were none, but his head hurt him more and more, causing a painful wince here and there. The dirt... the dirt... 'Why is the blood not fading away?' he muttered and looked at the blond with hope. Maybe it was his imagination, doing a trick on his mind only...

Blond wasn`t paying attention. He had stopped a few feet away and was looking at a large brick wall with a slightly drugged expression, and there were words written on the wall… and the writing looked familiar.

'I once heard of a man who became like no other...' he read out loud, his voice soft and lacking any sort of rhythm as he simply enunciated the words, pristine blue widening as the last letter was followed by jagged lines that lead to different sentence. _**CoUld yoU PleASe bRiNG mE YOuR sTiLl deADdeAdDEADEad BrOtHeR?**_

'What are you doing there? Let's get out of here!' Gaara shuddered at the vision such a drugged expression (was it possible he was looking like that on the most of the times?) and got closer to grab Naruto by hand. But once he got there, the wall got his attention also. 'What?' he said, seeing the disfigured writing 'Could you please bring me your dead, dead, dead brother?'

He blinked, then looked at it with unease. This could meant only one thing: the place was driving people crazy here. Only a madman would write something on such wall. Or was it that monsters actually got something in their heads also? The big and fat one, if he really existed beyond Gaara's imagination, seemed to be able to talk. Maybe others could too... He blinked again, and opened his mouth as the writing started going wider and wider, leaking ink which was not really black or blue or... Well, it was red. Bleeding red.

It started forming a pool. No, it wasn't a monster's writing.

The wall was a monster.

He tugged on Naruto's hand and turned away to not look at it anymore. 'Naruto, let's go!' he said, feeling, that the dripping from the wall started mixing and ringing around his brain like the rain falling on the ground. 'Move!...'

Naruto moved, but only because the redhead was pulling him along. He did so without a fight, without much an effort at all, almost as if he were a windup toy that was being held and just needed to be released to start advancing. He still was looking at the shifting mass of rotten red, though and the thing was quickly advancing on them. Tiny webs of red shifted towards them, crawling on top the broken asphalt and debris… and unnoticed to both teens, careful to avoid the larger patches of what was left of the sand.

The redhead pulled the blond toward himself, feeling freaked out at the advancing moving blood and moved backwards, seeing that the closer it went the more dirty and caked in mud it became, almost as if it was burning the ground and sucking the leftovers in it. And it was too fast.

'Stop it!' he yelled, not knowing if he made any sense to the wall, but it was the first thing he could think off 'What do you want?' The blood stopped. Some of it even came back to the wall, remaking a writing.

_'Count sheep, count sheep, count sheep, count sheep, baaa.'_ And there was a drawing of a hairless sheep. Gaara gulped down and started running, pulling the blond with him. That was not right. That was not fair. That was unlikely possible. He heard the blood splashing on the ground again and he did not want to look back, knowing it probably became dark and muddy in such deep scarlet that always caked the seed of a cherry.

Naruto went, his body still moving in that unnatural, agreeable way- like if his joints were made of well greased metal and his own body was uncomfortably light and hollow. He wasn't really aware of being dragged around, his mind having suffered a completely unnatural shock and caught up in an obsessive chain of thoughts? Still dead brother…

But… he didn't have any….did he? Still dead… Still dead, even now… even here, even Brother, your brotherbrotherbrotherbrother- But he didn't have any brothers! The only-! He was abruptly shaken off from the mental conversation and back into reality as Gaara went down and he did with him, staring blankly at the oxide-covered asphalt for a moment, only to see Gaara trying to fight something lacking skin and vaguely human-shaped off of him. 'Ah-'

'Get off! Get off! GET OFF!'

Shit! The fluid, soft flesh touched his skin everywhere, making him feel the blood and the stink, as it moaned incoherently. He didn't know what, he didn't want to know what. It was -DISGUSTING- He slashed the thing across something that could be called 'chest' with his knife and yelled as the blood covered him, making a contest of screams along with the things. Only he yelled longer. And he yelled still as he kicked it off him, yelled as he got up from his knees and yelled as he started running forward in a sheer panic, not seeing what was he doing and where was he going. Because- BECAUSE-

The thing had ribs- And it moaned something- something like- _'Hel-'_ He covered his ears and ran. Somewhere had to be exit of that hellhole. Somewhere... He stopped.

Naruto...

He forgot about Naruto. His Uboa shirt. He liked that shirt! Who cared about the shirt, he had to get out of there. After looking forward, he turned on his heel and ran back.

He didn't have to go very far. 'Run, Gaara!' a hand gripped at his wrist and yanked at him back in the direction he had come from. Naruto hadn't really noticed what had happened, as it seemed he had to run his head twice over every action for anything to make sense… and so by the time he realized Gaara had been attacked and fled, the thing that had been on him was pretty much straddling him, and well….

Gaara's knife was there, so twisting it out of the thing's chest and crawling back made a lot of sense to him, especially because as soon as it was done moaning at the way he twisted the knife out of its flesh, the thing seemed to be about to lunge at him. It twittered close, then suddenly started trashing wildly, and a net of dirty red lines started spreading across it. Right before it flattened it against the floor. He heard the way the thing's bones went as it literally was forced in a way that bodies with bones and flesh and tendons shouldn't, even those junkyard machines didn't flatten humans like that, did they? Not paper thin, like if they were a picture drawn on the floor itself, they just didn't-

He noticed the spurts of blood that had come from the things orifices was pooling, following a thin line that came somewhere in the distance. The blood moved and shaped itself into a wide, crescent moon, and words formed beneath _I spy with my little eye_ He had turned around and ran, then.

Gaara almost tripped when Naruto grabbed him in the middle of step and turned him on his heel to the opposite angle. He didn't stop though, running as fast as he could, not wanting to see or hear what's happened with the moaning monster and the blood on the asphalt. He ran. They ran. And ran. And ran. And the freaking road didn't seem to end, even if they passed the plate with the welcoming name of the town some time ago. He didn't remember it being so long. He remembered forest. But instead of green trees, everything was covered in this bloody, meaty red and made an impression of... something where trees should be, but they weren't.

He couldn't tell what it was, almost like if his vision- no, the knowledge of his brain bended in unusual movement and didn't allow him to recognize what he was looking at. It hurt like hell to think about this. They ran. Ran. And ran. His lungs burnt like if he was eating fire and his legs started giving up, but he didn't dare to listen to his muscles. Somewhere... exit... forward... forward... exit, exit, exit, exit, exit!...

Building.

An old, crumpled building, covered in blood and mud, just like all buildings he saw before, shaking in the vile atmosphere and leading to... More buildings. He took one more step and fell on his knees. 'What!' he howled, feeling how his hands touched the grain of the asphalt, tearing his skin 'What the hell is that? What? What? WHAT?' His vision blurred for a moment, making his heart beat in the quick, panicked movement. He gasped for air. Impossible. 'THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!' Then reached for his knife. 'My... Where... my...'

Turned backwards. He left it. He left his knife with the monster, he left... His brain started pulsing with the heartbeat. The attack... he was having an attack- 'My knife.' He wanted to say 'my pills', but somehow, his lips never listened to him in those moments.

Naruto always seemed to be able to rely on his adrenaline. It was a fun little bandwagon his body seemed to jump with very little provocation and take wild rides with for exceptionally long periods of time. His world had been reduced to gasping for air and moving his legs as fast as he could, in any direction which was the exact opposite of pancake-flattening sentient blood. That he was pretty much dragging someone that for some illogical reason didn't seem to understand how important was to run as fast as humanly possible was secondary. It was already there, so he might as well drag whomever (Red) was attached to his hand.

When the person suddenly tripped and fell, Naruto fell down as well, rolling down painfully over the gritty asphalt and adding more burns and scratches onto his blond person before lying there panting as his heart tried to slowly crawl back from somewhere behind his eyes. He tried to call the other's name, but his mouth was so dry the only thing that exited it was a hoarse sound more akin to taking breath just before sneezing, and he immediately closed it and started coughing when he noticed just how dry it was.

The screaming got through him, though, and he quickly scrambled up and stared at the redhead.

'Ga-'

A little more successful… He tried licking his lips, not that his dry-as-desert-sand tongue helped much, then swallowed painfully, a hand reaching for the other. Something in the end of that hand, pointy- he let go of it and let it clatter to the ground. 'Gaara.'

The redhead twitched, then looked at the blond with unseeing eyes, his lip quivering. 'My knife.' he muttered, then pointed at the building with his palm, but it seemed his throat tightened too much to actually let him say something 'M-m-m...'

The clattering sounds got his attention, as he crawled on his knees to it. It was there. His knife. Good. He grabbed by the bloody, sharp part (still leaking with the liquid of the monster) and held on it, squeezing harder and harder with every second, until he felt his breath vanished from his lungs and his palm stung just the same as the other one. Wake up. Wake up! Wake up!

He closed his eyes, letting go of the knife so suddenly it clattered on the ground, even if it seemed to be glued to his hand due the deep wounds it cut. Gaara gasped for air. His heartbeat slowly got back to normal. He kicked the attack on his own. For the last time. He didn't have third hand. He was back to normal. He opened his eyes and looked at the building. And he screamed. Nothing in particular, just voiced his fear, anger and shock as he couldn't do anything else about it. Just until he stopped, he didn't seem to notice the blond, as if his pleading went beyond his hearing. Just when his voice gave out, he could, finally could, look Naruto in the face.

By the time the redhead stopped panicking and released the knife, Naruto had his hand on his and was trying to stop the bleeding with one of his arm-warmers. In reality it had taken pretty much as long as Gaara managed to get a hold of himself during the episode for him to decide to remove it, but scared as he was, the red-haired boy seemed to be holding himself together much less successfully, and those cuts were deep. At least they matched his other hand now.

'Why did you do that for? Are you okay? What happened back there—We were walking and then that thing jumped you—What? Are you okay? Are you feeling-'

'We are back.' said Gaara, abruptly cutting into the panicked stream of the blond's words 'We were supposed to be out and we are in again. This road lead to forest and... and...'

His shoulders moved in a helpless shrug as his face contradicted a pained expression which seemed to have nothing to do with his damaged hand '... and we came back.' Just then he got a look on his hand, but it didn't seem to faze him as he got a hold on his knife (this time the good side) and hidden it in his pants pocket, not even wincing once as his fingers curled. 'I'm not all right.' he whispered, then smiled a serene smile that you'd only see in the old, old movies without a sound and piano playing in the background 'I'm never all right.' Then his smile deepened.

'We have to get back. Find the right road.'

'O…okay.' The shorter boy answered slowly, looking around as if to make sense of the other's words, and slowly brought himself up, ignoring a small bout of nausea that made him want to throw up whatever was currently occupying his stomach. '…do you know where we are now?' he asked, his tone pleading the other to say that yes, he did.

Gaara's smile deepened even more, twisting in something almost grotesque, as his cheeks looked strained and eyes looked to be void of happiness.

'Silent Hill.' he said in amused tone. 'The biggest graveyard on the world. Apparently the grave too.'

'...I really don`t need any more material to freak out. Really. This is plenty freaky as it is. Can we just get out of here? Do you know how to get out of here?' He took an unconscious step back, Gaara`s smile scaring him more than what he could possibly describe.

The redhead's mimic seemed to hit it's hilt, as his teeth flashed in almost canine ways and eyes danced in abnormal, shaky way. He took a step forward, following the blond. 'I have-' His hands moved up to Naruto's face, clawing like paws of a wild animal. 'No fucking-' Then they were clasped tight into two balls of palms as if he wanted to crush invisible birds he held in them, just near the blond's cheeks. 'IDEA!'

His smile changed into the pained one in an instant.

'We are out! We passed the gates! We ran down the road! I came exactly the same way! We are supposed to be heading to the deserted land of forest and sings of 'Dangerous Zone Move Backwards'! And what do you see there? A building! Silent Hill from which we just ran out! I don't know what you see in this but I see a desert funeral! Funeral, you hear me? Funeral!' Then, as if something struck him, he limped down and hanged his head toward the ground. 'I hear the laughter. Someone, let us out…'

And the mist slowly rose, covering them again, erasing from the face of the world.

(…)

Red. Red eyes. They spin lazy, two little dots like tadpoles, like commas, like ink spilt in a pool of blood. Red spilling down his face (watch it but don't take notice please don't take notice) spilling, spilt in between bronzed peach, gaping (like mouths screaming and there might be teeth underneath, oh, there might, there might and if there were-)

There's white, but its soaked red, it's climbing back, climbing up, filling, filling… spilling. It spills on his face and on his hair, it spills on the stigma on his forehead, and the word makes him laugh. You lied to me. That's not what you wanted at all.

'_Do you want to hear a secret…?' _

The voice is sweet and is the only thing that doesn't make him think of blood, even when it reeks of it, it's the stale stench of blood that's rotten on bodies buried under moonless nights, bodies that might or might not rise

The voice is sweet and is the only thing that doesn't make him think of blood, even when it reeks of it, it's the stale stench of blood that's rotten on bodies buried under moonless nights, bodies that might or might not rise in equally dark nights or in the milky depth of the mist. Bodies that might or not still be of use. The voice is sweet and pure and a lie, but he listens anyway.

'_It was said once by a man in here… A man who loved a lot…'_

But you don't know what love is. You murdered love. You mutilated it.

'…_that old gods haven't left this place… and they still grant power to those who venerate them. power to defy even death.'_

He listens and he wonders, and wonders and thinks…

At what price?


End file.
